


Sir ~ Aaron Hotchner

by imagineaworlds



Series: Random Criminal Minds Smut One Shots [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Brat Kink, Collars, Dom/sub, Edging, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasms, Service Kink, Service Submission, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sir Kink, Smut, Stoplight System, Vibrators, brat taming, collar kink, minimal aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineaworlds/pseuds/imagineaworlds
Summary: Hotch has a gift for the reader, which turns into a long day of play and torture.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: Random Criminal Minds Smut One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140008
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Sir ~ Aaron Hotchner

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Sex toy. Edging. Ruined orgasms. Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Collaring. Minimal aftercare. (He tries his best, okay!). Brat taming by making the sub perform acts of service.

Since we moved, Hotch and I had been remodeling the basement. Well, sort of. Jack had his gaming area on the left half of the room, but Hotch had moved out the wall of the spare bedroom to take up the entire right half of the basement. At first, we agreed to do it because it would be a nice, private office space for us to work when we were at home. But now, it was slowly turning into a playroom. It was all Hotch’s idea. It started with him insisting that we put a lock on the door to ensure that Jack wouldn’t walk in to see all of our gruesome work that we brought home. It was safer that way. Since Hotch sometimes forgot to put his stuff away, anyone could see crime scene photos if they went in. So, he put a lock on it, and we were the only ones with copies of the key.

Once we got that lock, though, things started spiraling. Because we had all of that alone time, Hotch would get a little handsy. I mean, there was no fear anymore that Jack would come wandering in since he had grown out of working on cases with us a long time ago, which meant that we could just lock the door and not have to worry about being interrupted.

So, Hotch started testing out some new things. He got ceiling hooks to tie me to, and he even went as far as building an X shaped bondage board that he nailed to the wall and hid behind the bookshelf he put on wheels, just in case Jack ever did happen to find his way in there. I hated the X-board. Being tied to it was absolute hell. Whenever Hotch wanted to punish me, he would drag me down there, sometimes by my hair, and he would strap me to it. He knew I hated it because it spread me out, leaving me vulnerable to whatever torture he had in mind. But that only made him love it more.

Eventually, it all got to the point that we had to tell Jack, “When we’re working in the basement, you’re not allowed down there.” No questions were asked. He believed that it was just our office, and he knew the nature of our work, so he obeyed what we said. And it worked. We got away with it for long enough that Hotch even went out on Valentine’s day, and when he returned, he had an entirely new toy box just for the basement. I was pretty sure he was going a little bit overboard, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

On a random Saturday, Jack was at a friend’s house for a weekend long sleepover, and Hotch was out running secret errands. Honestly, with all of the work I had, I didn’t have time to pry for answers or try to figure out what it was that Hotch was doing. It was all so far at the back of my mind. When he did finally come home, though, I called out to ask if he brought lunch back with him. He didn’t answer, so I took that as a no. I shook my head and returned to my work. I knew that if we got hungry enough, I could just head upstairs and make something quick and easy.

And then I heard the basement door open. I didn’t turn to wait for Hotch to open up the office door because I was too nose deep in this paragraph of the report I was currently working on. The office door opened, as expected. Hotch headed in and he approached me, but he didn’t stop to kiss my head or cheek, and he didn’t say anything. He just dropped a black plastic bag next to my left hand, then walked out. I cocked a brow.

I sat up in my seat and started opening up the bag to take a look inside, at which point, I found a new lingerie set and toy sitting at the bottom. My jaw dropped. What the fuck was he thinking? We didn’t need more toys. And he knew that there were only certain kinds of lingerie I was comfortable in— I was taken aback as I lifted it out of the box to inspect it. Gorgeous. And perfect. That was when I noticed the note taped to the top of the box that the toy was stored in.

I pulled out the note and read it. It was in Hotch’s writing, and he was ordering me to put the toy in me, put the lingerie on, put my collar on, then meet him upstairs. I spun in my chair to stare at the collar hidden in our toy box on the bookshelf. Hotch only used it for special occasions. What did I miss? It wasn’t our anniversary. It was neither of our birthdays. What…

I looked back down at the lingerie and blushed. I was embarrassed because it wasn’t something I would normally wear. I mean, he had seen all of me nude and in lingerie before, of course, but this… this set was meant to be worn and catch the attention of partners, not to be discarded and unconsidered. How was I supposed to wear it, knowing that he would just destroy it? Maybe if I didn’t put it on— No. It seemed like this was a reward for something. If I was a brat now, I’d only be doing a disservice to myself. So, I stood and I started getting changed.

After stripping out of my clothes, I grabbed the toy from the box, and I started inspecting it. It was pink and oval shaped with a thick rubber wire with a button hanging off the end. I swallowed hard. Hotch had been talking about how he wanted one of these, but I didn’t think he would actually go out to buy it. I didn’t hate it, though. In fact, I felt how eager I was as I wandered over to get some lube from the toy box— and my collar and chain, too. I set the collar down before lubing the toy and lining it up with my entrance, then slowly slid it into me. I let out a moan as my walls stretched.

“Fuck…”

I stood up straight, feeling the way the toy moved in me with hardly any effort on my end. I didn’t know how I was going to make it upstairs without just collapsing and start grinding my hips around for more stimulation. I had to try, however. The faster I just got through this part, the sooner Hotch could make me feel good. Therefore, I hurried to grab the collar and clasp it around my neck. When it was snug against my skin, I adjusted the chain dangling from it so that it was resting just between my breasts, making my nipples harden against the somewhat see-through lingerie. And then I started heading upstairs.

When I reached the top of the steps and opened the basement door, I saw Hotch sitting in the living— specifically, his seat in the corner, which was facing where I was standing. In his hand, he had a glass of bourbon. His face was flat with a scowl, which I didn’t understand, considering I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I followed his instructions to a T. Maybe I didn’t? Maybe I forgot something? I reached for the chain dangling between my neck just to be sure that it was really there and I hadn't overlooked grabbing the collar.

I realized that he was just settled in Dom space already. He was staring at me, a slight curl forming at the edge of his lips as he tried his hardest not to smile at me, trying to maintain that look of sterness and dominance. I suddenly started to feel self-conscious because there I was, practically nude, and he was all dressed, just sitting there, watching me, slowly drinking his bourbon.

“Baby, what’s this about?” I asked, approaching him warily. “Oh, my—” I choked as the toy inside me turned on randomly. I stumbled and caught myself by grabbing onto the back of the couch, which was just in front of me. “Fuck.”

“Stand up, slut,” he growled.

My legs shook under my weight. I honestly wasn’t sure if I would be able to stand up without him there to hold me or something. But I tried. I tried because he was glaring at me, daring for me to disobey an order and give him a reason to make my day a living hell. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. So, I stood up tall, ignoring that my knees kept buckling every few seconds.

“I’m hungry,” he said before taking another sip of his bourbon. “A turkey salad sounds nice.”

“You can get it yourself, then,” I snipped.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said, you can get it yourself.”

His lips tightened and his eyes squinted in anger. “Come here. Now.” I hesitated against the order, though. “Come here, brat, right now, or so fucking help me—” I started moving towards him like I was in a trance. When I was close enough, he reached out for the chain dangling from my neck, and he pulled until our faces were level. “Don’t ever talk back to me again. Understood?”

I gulped and nodded as much as I could considering my neck was strained by the collar. “Yes, Sir.”

He released me immediately, giving me a chance to pull back. He set his cup down on the table beside him, then stood while brushing his hair back out of his face. “Go on,” he said, gesturing towards the kitchen. I squinted at him. “Don’t make me tell you again.” I rolled my eyes and turned to start walking to the kitchen, but that was when I felt the toy turn up, causing my knees to buckle, but Hotch caught me. “Stop being a brat, baby girl, and this will go much easier. Right now, with all of the back talk and rolling your eyes, I’m almost thinking about taking the toy out altogether, then bending you over my knee for the rest of the day. So, tread lightly.” With that, he spanked my ass somewhat hard, sending me stumbling forward.

As the toy turned off, I scurried to the kitchen, racing to beat him there so that my punishment— or whatever the fuck this was— wouldn’t get any worse. I really didn’t understand how I got there. One minute, I was in the office, minding my own business, working on a few reports, then, suddenly, Hotch is all pissed in Dom space and finding every reason to torture me. I wasn’t going to give him any kind of satisfaction like that. Not in a million years. If he wanted to torture me, he was going to have to—

“Fuck—” I caught myself on the kitchen counter as the toy suddenly turned back on again.

Hotch walked in. “You okay there, baby girl?”

I squinted at him. He walked past me while chuckling and headed to the kitchen table to sit down in the chair facing me so that he could watch as I whimpered when the toy turned off. When he didn’t say or do anything, I caught the hint. He was going to turn me into a service sub one way or another, and it was going to start with making him lunch. Fuck.

I started by shuffling my way to the fridge to grab the leftover salad makings that had been sitting in the fridge since Hotch made lunch for himself yesterday. At least it made my job easier. While I was there, I grabbed the sliced turkey, too, and then I took all of it to the kitchen island just behind me. As I set everything down, I felt the speed of the toy turn up. I whimpered. My knees buckled under me and all I could do was hold onto the edge of the counter as I tried my very hardest not to tip over. Hotch turned it down again just to ensure that I would keep doing my work. When I caught my breath, I stood up straight and looked over at him to see that his smirk was still glued to his face, only now, he was falling apart slightly as he palmed himself through his pants. I wanted him so bad. I could feel myself throbbing and aching for him, yet I knew that there was a slim chance that I was going to get what I wanted.

When I had the salad tossed together, I grabbed the plate and a fork from one of the drawers, then I dared to stumble over to the table where Hotch was sitting to place it in front of him. Just as the plate gently left my hands, Hotch turned the toy up.

“Fuck, Sir.”

“Come here,” he beckoned me, curling his fingers towards him. I tensed, my walls clenching around the toy, my mind racing with how good it would feel to have those same fingers buried inside of me, making the same movements. “Kneel,” he said, pointing to the ground beside him. I did so without argument. Hotch seemed to grin at my sudden need to obey him in order to ensure that my pleasure would be maintained. He had me right where he wanted. “Good girl.”

“Sir…” I moaned quietly, wavering beside him.

He ignored me as he picked up his fork and started stabbing at the salad I made for him, collecting up enough lettuce and turkey for a mouthful. The buzz of the vibrator inside of me was suddenly all too noticeable. Now that I wasn’t keeping busy and he wasn’t giving me his attention, all I had to focus on was the fact that it was already building up my orgasm. But I couldn’t cum without his permission. I never could. If I came and he didn’t give the word, I would  _ always _ receive a punishment— and it usually wasn’t pleasurable for me at all. Some punishments were fun, others were quite literally torture. But Hotch had to make sure I knew the rules. Cumming without permission was a big no-no.

“May I please cum, Sir… Please…” I let out a breathless moan. “Please.” I was so close. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“No,” he answered before taking another bite.

“Sir—” I almost toppled over. “I can’t—”

“Hold it.”

I shook my head. The knot in my stomach was tightening and the brink of my orgasm right there. It was only going to be another few seconds or so before I’d cum. “I can’t hold it.” But he didn’t say or do anything in response. I thought he would’ve turned it off to edge me, but he seemed more focused on his lunch than my begging. “I’m gonna— Fuck—”

My whole body started shaking as my orgasm overtook me. My posture gave out and a moan escaped my lips. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck— Felt so good— Shit… And then the stimulation was gone. I whimpered, rolling my hips around to feel something, to encourage my orgasm as my walls continued tightening around the toy as my high died out, though I couldn’t feel the euphoria that usually came with it. I was regretting telling him that I was fine with ruined orgasms. I was really, really fucking regretting it.

I yelped as the toy turned back on again. It was like I hadn’t cum at all. The stimulation started again, and it felt like I was being toyed with for the first time. My body was tired because it recognized that I had orgasmed, but the cerebral cortex in my brain didn’t register that there was any pleasure from the climax, so it continued to tell my body that I needed to race towards another, more rewarding orgasm.

“Sir,” I gasped, leaning forward to press my forehead against his side.

He shrugged me off gently. “Sit up.”

“I can’t.”

“Do it.” He turned off the vibrator to give me a chance to catch my breath and regain my strength. I panted as I sat up and looked up at him. “What do you have to say to me?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“For?”

“For ruining my orgasm.”

He smiled at the mild, seductive praise meant only for his pleasure and my torture. I wasn’t really thankful for it, and we both knew it, but hearing me say it gave him the euphoric mental high he loved. This was what he wanted. It was my job to give him praise, even if I wasn’t really grateful for the torture.

Then the toy turned back on. I moaned again and wavered slightly before fixing my posture. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he let it go this time around, which was something I was grateful for. But the toy hit a new spot within me that it hadn’t reached before. I noticed it immediately because it made me want to give out again. It was getting increasingly harder and harder to keep sitting up for Hotch like that. He knew it, of course. He knew that I was struggling, and he didn’t care. He liked watching me fall apart. With the ruined orgasm he gave me, something that I was neither used to nor prepared for, I was weak, yet still desperate for another, stronger orgasm. It made him chuckle to see that my need for pleasure was trapped in a body that didn’t know how to express or handle it.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he whispered, reaching out to hold my chin in his hand. I nuzzled lovingly against his touch, though my face was contorting into a thousand different looks like that told him that I was trying to hold my orgasm back. “Don’t cum.”

I whimpered against his hand as he grabbed onto my chin with a tight grip. I knew what he wanted. I knew what he needed. I knew that giving him everything he needed to hear was my best chance of getting an actual climax. So, I gave in. “It feels so good, Sir. Thank you for treating me so well. Thank you for giving me these gifts, and for collaring me, for giving me pleasure. Thank you. Thank you—” I moaned as the knot in my stomach returned, yet this time around it was much weaker, which I knew wasn’t good for me in the long run. “Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir—” I raced to warn him, hoping that he would turn it off before I could tip over the edge.

I wished he didn’t know what ruined orgasms were, and I wished that he weren’t so damn good at it to me. He was killing me slowly like this. At least with edging I could build my stamina, and I could still reach an explosive, perfect, overwhelming orgasm that gave me relief. But this. This was torture, the way my body and mind were in conflict about whether or not I had really achieved an orgasm. I hated it. There was no pleasure that came from ruin. There was only a need for more, even if it was torture like this. Hotch understood that was how I was falling apart, and he loved it.

And then I tipped over the edge. I bit my lip, letting out a quiet groan as the knot in my stomach finally started coming undone. Before I could thank him, though, he stole away the high again by turning off the toy.

I cried against his hand, “Please, Sir, no—”

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I opened my eyes. “Thank you, Sir,” I said reluctantly as I felt my orgasm fade entirely. “Thank you,” I repeated weakly. “Thank you.” I fell limp, his hold on my chin the only thing keeping me up. “Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You did so well, baby girl. You look and sound so pathetic like this…” He kissed my other cheek. “Do you like to be broken like the slut you are?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir. Yes. I love to be broken.”

“Just breathe, my love. Breathe.”

As Hotch released my chin, I fell forward, unable to maintain my posture any further. He had broken me. Throughout our relationship, he never actually managed to break me like this. It was all these damn experiments of his, testing the waters to see what we like and didn’t like. After today, I knew that ruined orgasms were going to stay. Despite how weak I had been left because of the ruins, I loved them. I loved the way it tortured me—I loved the way he tortured me.

“I’m done with my lunch,” Hotch said after wiping his mouth with his napkin, then throwing it on the plate. I looked up at him through my lashes. We stared at each other, my eyes pleading with the question: “We’re not done yet?”, to which Hotch laughed. “No, baby girl, we’re not done yet. You still have to clean the living room.” The toy teasingly turned back on for a brief moment to give me a taste of what was in store. “Go on,” he gestured to his plate. “I’ll be waiting in the living room.” He pushed his chair back. “Don’t be long.” He stepped around me, reaching out to pet my hair slightly, then he walked away.

When I couldn’t see him anymore, I let out a deep breath— more like a gasp, actually. Holy shit. I loved him more than anything, but if he was going to keep doing that, I was going to lose my shit. I wouldn’t know until I met him back in the living room, though, which was supposed to happen after I cleaned up after his lunch. I really fucking hated being a service sub. He knew that. He knew that my thing was being a brat, pushing at his buttons until he snapped and fucked me until I couldn’t watch. In the oddest of ways, when we were in Dom and sub space like this, I enjoyed being scared of him. It made my adrenaline pump. So, I wondered what would happen if I refused to clean his plate… No. Shitty idea. There were a thousand other ways to tease him that wouldn’t quite literally get me killed.

I carefully pushed myself to my feet, trying to gauge how wobbly I was. It felt like I was a newborn deer attempting to walk for the very first time. I cringed. Fuck. While trying to ignore it, I grabbed his plate and slowly walked it over to the sink and washed it, then set it in the dishwasher. I let out another shaky breath. After closing the dishwasher, I slowly made my way to the living room because I could hardly feel my legs, but also because I was somewhat scared. I just wanted to cum. I didn’t feel like that was too much to ask of him, yet he was going to drag this torture out. I didn’t even know what I had done to make him do this. He had only just gotten home, and that was when he gave me these gifts, and now it was all about making my life a living hell.

Hotch was holding his glass of bourbon in his hand while sitting in his chair again. He was still hard, and the sight of his tight pants straining against his erection was enough to make me melt again and roll my hips around the toy. He smirked. Within an instant, the toy turned on, and my knees buckled.

“Start with the duster.” Hotch pointed to the duster he had put on the table next to a rag and a bottle of Windex.

I squinted at him. He wanted me to really do this? Like, actually? He wanted me to wander around as my legs shook and I tried not to cum again and again, all while focusing on cleaning the fucking living room? Hotch had already done that on Friday. He liked spending the weekends in a clean house, so when we would come home from work every Friday, Hotch would walk around to see what needed to be cleaned or fixed, and it would all go on a list for him to work on. So, why was he… As I picked up the duster and approached the bookshelf, I realized how much dust was sitting there. He hadn’t cleaned it on Friday. He knew that this was coming, which was exactly why he didn’t… Asshole.

Hotch toyed with the speed of the vibrator inside of me, as if to say: “Go on.”

By the time I was done with the whole living room, Hotch had barely edged me. Compared to the events that unfolded in the kitchen, his behavior was incredibly mild, enoujgh so that I could focus on actually cleaning— though I was still incredibly paranoid that he was going to start fucking with me at any second. But I dusted every surface imaginable. When that was finished, I grabbed the windex in order to clean the glass tables, the glass bookshelf doors, and the windows. Hotch snickered lightly when he saw the way I was trying to hide my body behind the curtains. I was still standing in the lingerie, and if someone happened to walk by our house, I was on full display. In the oddest way, it actually turned me on. I wasn’t much of an exhibitionist, but… There was something about the way that Hotch was just sitting there, watching as I cleaned up while in the gift he bought for me, and any stranger or neighbor could catch us and put the pieces together.

“I’m done cleaning, Sir,” I croaked, taking a few steps to stand in front of him.

“You forgot something.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him. “What?”

He palmed himself through his pants. “Me.”

I immediately dropped to my knees and crawled until I was between his legs. As I reached out to unbuckle his belt, Hotch grabbed the chain hanging from my neck, and he pulled slightly while taking another sip of his drink. I whimpered and tried pulling away. He only yanked me closer until my mouth was over his clothed erection. I stopped fiddling with his belt for a moment so that I could focus on running my wet tongue over the outline of his cock. I looked at him through my lashes to see that he had already thrown his head back.

When his hold on my leash released again, I pulled my mouth away so that I could get his pants off. Hotch lifted his head again to take another sip and to watch me as I worked. I quickly realized that he wasn’t going to move or adjust at all for the sake of making my job of sucking him off any easier. He wanted me to work for it. It would’ve been easier if he lifted his hips up and let me pull his pants and underwear down, but it was more relaxing for him to just sit there while I pulled his zipper down, then pulled his length out through the front hole in his underwear.

The second my fist was around his length, Hotch let out an involuntary groan. I felt him twitch in my hand, too. In response to his anticipation, I didn’t hesitate to sit up on my knees slightly and lick my tongue around his tip. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hotch’s grip on his glass tighten until his knuckles were white. His tip was always the most sensitive part of him, and I knew that. I knew that if I played with it long enough, he could cum just like that. But I wasn’t trying to torture him the same way he had been torturing me all afternoon. I wanted to give him what he needed. Not only did I want to please him for the sake of proving that my role as his submissive was to care for his needs, but also because I knew that if I did well, he would give me a real, fulfilling orgasm. I was so ready to cum. To actually, fully cum. I wanted to scream, moan, and shake in euphoria as he watched me. But in order for that to happen, I needed to make him cum first. I could do that. I wanted to do that.

So, I lowered my mouth onto every inch of him that would fit, I moaned to add to the sensations he was feeling. Hotch used his free hand to grab the back of my head. As I tried adjusting around his length, my jaw going slack, my tongue licking his shaft, Hotch pushed my head down further. I gagged as his tip hit the back of my throat. He had a silent thing for throat training—it was something he hadn’t officially added to his list of likes yet, but I still knew. It was a punishment of sorts for me, but he knew that it would ultimately be rewarding for both of us. Well, I wasn’t sure if he was actively aware of it, but some part of his mind told him to do it and to enjoy doing it to me, so…

“Always gagging around my big cock, my love?” He chuckled to himself as he finally released me so that I could sit up and catch my breath. “Back down,” he commanded, pushing me down again. This time, I moved with him.

My obedience was enough to encourage him to let go of me so that I could do it on my own. I propped my palms on his thighs and tilted my head down towards his hips further so that I could take more of him without choking this time. As my lips settled at his base, Hotch let out a throaty growl.

“Just like that, baby girl.”

Suddenly, the toy inside me turned back on. I moaned loudly around him while wiggling my hips around. My body wasn’t tired anymore, but the build to my orgasm was still hard. I tried to stay focused on pleasing Hotch because I knew that there was no way in hell he was going to let me cum before him; so if I just focused on my task, I’d forget about the toy making me choke around him again long enough to have him a moaning mess for me. He had already broken into unsteady breaths and whimpers. All it would take was me circling my tongue around his tip every time I bobbed up slightly, and he’d be mine. I wanted that so bad. He had been listening to me moan, cry, and whimper all day; but the sound of him breaking down for me was like music to my ears every time. I loved the way he sounded. I loved when he would growl in his Dom space, or how he’d whimper in sub space. Either way, the sound of his moans could make me cum sometimes. But I had to try and not think about it as he turned the toy up to a higher setting.

“You want me to cum in that pretty mouth of yours?” he asked me quietly, trying to suppress a moan that was building in his chest. I wanted him to moan, though, so I lifted my mouth off of him with a pop before laying the flat of my tongue on his tip while staring at him through my eyelashes. “Stop that,” he moaned out. I did it again, though. “Brat!” he hissed. He turned the toy up all the way and forced my mouth back down all the way to make me gag. “Fuck—” he moaned out more loudly the second he hit the back of my throat again. “Fucking brat.” He thrust his hips upward. As I gagged again, he set his glass down on the table next to him so that he could tangle his fingers in my hair. “Just like that. Fuck.”

Hotch’s tell was cursing an excessive amount. It always had been, and it always would be. Him suddenly getting rough with me while cursing as often as possible was how I knew that I was getting to him, even though I had been a brat by toying with him.

“Fuck—fuck—shit—” He was so close. “Fuck!” His hips snapped forward into my mouth as he came hard.

I groaned around him as his fingers pulled at my hair lightly, sending a shiver down my spine and to my clit. With no task to keep me distracted, I felt the toy inside me change speed to something slower. Despite how breathless and taken Hotch was by his orgasm, he had enough within himself to take a moment to continue tormenting me. Asshole. In return, I didn’t stop bobbing my head on him. With his cum still in my mouth, I licked at his sensitive shaft and tip. I could feel his thighs tensing at the over stimulation. I didn’t stop, though. I kept going, even when he cursed at me and tried to pull me off. He had taken away my chance of finding relief a handful of times, I could return the favor. Hotch was always sensitive after his orgasms— which was a main reason he liked sitting deep inside me after he would cum. With me continuing my movements without mercy, it was killing him. I liked that. I liked having some semblance of dominance in the situation, even though it would inevitably come to bite me in the ass soon.

“Stop it—” he commanded, pulling at my hair a little harder.

I finally gave up when my scalp started to sting. I pulled my mouth off of him entirely and presented it for him—something he also liked that had gone unsaid between us for forever. And then I swallowed. Usually, it was then that he would compliment me by saying “good girl” or “I love you”, but he was frowning at me.

“Now I’ve cleaned up all the messes in the house,” I said out of turn.

Hotch suddenly reached out and grabbed my neck in his palm, ignoring the collar under his grip. He squeezed. “I give you gifts, and all you can do is be a brat.”

“Sir—”

He turned off the toy when I pouted at him. “No, no, no,” he smiled to himself, “there’s no getting yourself out of this one.” He moved his hand off my neck so that he could grab the chain dangling between my breasts. “Come up here.” He tugged upwards. I moved to do as I was told, standing up in front of him once more. He tugged towards him, and I got the idea. I stepped to sit on his lap, but he stopped me. “Only one thigh.”

My eyes widened slightly in horror of what was to come. We had never, ever done this before. We did a lot; but this… Hotch was catching me off guard with all of these new toys, tasks, and punishments—not that I was complaining, though, of course. But this was definitely new. This was something we hadn’t discussed, though it wasn’t really anything that needed to be discussed. Hotch would stop immediately if I was uncomfortable with any of this. We both knew that. I trusted him, and he trusted me; so, I sat down on one of his thighs.

Hotch pulled the chain until I was kissing him. “Ride my thigh,” he mumbled against my lips. “Now.”

I moaned as I kissed him again and started grinding my hips on back and forth along his thigh. My clit was so sensitive, it was throbbing between my legs. Finally, with a little pressure, I found instant relief. I moaned happily once more. When Hotch’s hands found my hips, I started grinding faster while he held me down to make me go harder. My palms rested against his warm pecks for balance. I could feel his heart racing in his chest, and I could feel the way he was tending to make sure I would stay on his lap, and that his hold on me was strong enough to prove a point. And then the toy turned on again.

“Sir—” I gasped, biting down on his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” he demanded.

It was so humiliating to be riding his thigh like that. I was a whimpering, wet, desperate mess for him, and all I could think about was cumming on his leg. It was so demeaning. Hotch wanted it to strike me that I didn’t deserve his cock—hell, I didn’t even deserve his fingers or tongue. I got his thigh, and that was all. Yet, it was working. The pressure on my clit was stimulating enough to build my orgasm, but on its own it would have never been enough, hence the added torture of the toy. Together, they would inevitably tip me over the edge. I was terrified of cumming, though. I knew that he was going to take it all away again, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. He was breaking me. He truly found the best way to finally make me obedient for him… And the worst part was, I couldn’t tell if I hated it or not. I was pretty sure I liked it. I liked that this was his way of telling me: “You don’t deserve anything, brat.” I didn’t deserve his cock, his fingers, his tongue, my orgasms, my pleasure, none of it. That all belonged to him, and I had to earn it.

“Be a good slut and look at me.” He wrapped his large hand around my collared neck. I stared at him for a moment before the toy sped up, and I had to screw my eyes shut in order to concentrate on not cumming or falling over. “I said, look at me.” He squeezed until I struggled to inhale. I opened my eyes. “I want to watch you fall apart.”

“I already have,” I whimpered.

He snickered and shook his head. “No… No, I mean I want to watch you as you cum again and again on my thigh, knowing you can’t escape.” I whimpered again. “Don’t stop riding my thigh. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

My breath sputtered as he released my neck slightly. I rolled my hips more urgently as the knot in my stomach started to build. The toy buzzed inside of me, sending vibrations throughout my entire body—even vibrating his thigh, which only affected my clit. Then, to my surprise, I saw Hotch getting hard again. Knowing that this was my chance to get on his good side, I took it. Literally. I moved one of my palms from his chest for balance to holding his erect length. Hotch moaned, giving me the opportunity to lean in for a passionate kiss. He stopped holding my hips in order to hold my face. I felt him twitch in my hand. His refractory period was usually… slow… but this… Watching me practically cry on the kitchen floor earlier as he ruined my orgasms over and over again probably set something off within him that made him desperate to cum for me for a second time in a row. It was hot. Really fucking hot.

“I’m close, Sir,” I warned. I didn’t even know the toy could vibrate faster, yet Hotch managed to make it happen. With the increased speed, I was encouraged to fuck his thigh harder. “May I cum, Sir? Please. I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Cum, slut.”

I cried out, my chest falling against his, my chin thrown over his shoulder, my hand halting on his length, my thighs shaking as I came so hard I couldn’t breathe. But I had my orders. He didn’t want me to stop. Despite how tired I was, I had to keep going. My clit ached and throbbed as I slowly kept grinding on his thigh. The full power of the vibrator didn’t change, though. My pussy was so fucking sensitive, I couldn’t stop moaning and clenching it around it. Then Hotch put his hands on my hips to make me move faster.

“No— Sir—”

“I told you that I didn’t want you to stop.”

I cried out again as the toy hit a sensitive spot inside of me. “Sir!”

“Don’t stop.”

It was painful to keep going. It was like a goddamn punishment on its own. I had been so desperate for a true, powerful orgasm that I was willing to do anything, even giving in to this preposterous order. But I was desperate at the time to keep going. Now, I was desperate to stop. It was too overwhelming. That didn’t stop Hotch from torturing me, though. And then I felt another orgasm approaching.

“No, no, no…” I cried. “Please.”

“What?” I petted my hair. “Does my little slut need to cum again?”

I whimpered and nodded against his shoulder. “I’m too sensitive.”

“Oh…” he apologized sarcastically. “See, it’s not fun to be overstimulated.”

“I’m gonna—”

I tried hitting at his shoulders as another climax washed over me. Hotch grabbed my hands and pinned them away from him. Great. Now I didn’t even get to touch him. I was crying while humping his thigh, and I didn’t even get to touch him. I fucking hated him.

“What do you say?”

I lifted my head long enough to glare at him, but then he rocked his leg up, creating more pressure between us, making me break down again. “Thank you, Sir!” I shuddered as the toy’s vibrations were disappearing as my body started going numb. “Thank you for letting me cum. Thank you for letting me be a good, little cum slut for you. Thank you. You make me feel so good, Sir—”

“You’re rambling. It doesn’t count.”

“Please…” I cried quietly. “Please.”

“Red?”

I shook my head.

“Yellow?”

I nodded.

Hotch turned the toy off. “Slow down, baby.” He released my hands, which immediately found his shoulders for balance. “Breathe.” He petted my hair again, this time in a loving way rather than a teasing way. “Slow…” He guided my hips to a slow and steady stop. “Good girl.” I panted against his shoulder as I slumped, my body too weak to hold myself upright anymore. Hotch grabbed me so that he could lift me from straddling his thigh to cradling me in his arms. “You did so good, baby.” He kissed my temple. I hugged my arms around his neck. “Just relax for a minute.”

I pulled lovingly at the ends of his hair on his neck. “Thank you, Sir.”

He kissed my temple. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too…”

He continued to hold me close until I calmed down, my breathing evening out, my muscles relaxing, my body no longer shaking. When the time was right, Hotch helped me upstairs. When we made it to the bedroom, he helped clean me up by carefully removing the collar from my neck, then peeling the lingerie off of me, and finishing by slowly pulling the toy out of me. I hissed at the feeling. After Hotch kissed the inside of each of my thighs, he got up to get a warm, wet wash cloth from the bathroom that could clean me up for the time being until I was strong enough to go shower with him.

When he was done cleaning me up, he pulled the covers on the bed down, and pulled me close into a cuddle. He kissed my temple again. “I love you…” he whispered into my ear.

I rolled over to face him. “I love you…” I kissed him. “So much.”

He kissed me back and we both smiled.


End file.
